As we grow older, it seems to me
We like to live once more in memory –
The good old days of long ago
And all the fun we used to know.
Remember, the Fourth in the good old days,
When we celebrated the good old ways,
With a bang bang here and a bang bang there –
And the smell of powder filled the air.
Paper balloons every shape and size,
Were floating and falling from the sky.
We were dressed in crepe paper, red, white and blue –
Oh yes, we had a burned finger or two.
But now that automobiles have come,
The Fourth of July just ain’t no fun.
If you are caught shooting one little fire cracker now,
They throw you in the old hoosegow.
Believe it or not, they have found new ways
To kill and maim on our holidays –
Safe and sane they call it, yet more people die
Than in the good old days on the Fourth of July.
And the stillness really makes me sad,
When I think of all the fun we had.
But one thing they can never take away,
In the memories we have of the good old days.
